Our Best Back Pocket Secret
by wowsugarpuss
Summary: The summer after Veronica figures it all out, everything goes to hell. Summer before S2 AU.


The summer after Veronica figures it all out, everything goes to shit.

She's still dating Logan, but he's accused of murder. Her dad is out of hospital, but he's busy writing his book. Wallace is around sometimes but nothing is the same as it was before he found out all about her secret life. And Duncan, well he doesn't really talk to her unless she's alone. So, unless she's not with Logan.

But then Logan gets acquitted and things start to look a little bit better. They still aren't free from the staring, from the accusations, but they're free from the idea that Logan might become somebody's bunkmate. He had laughed thickly about being traded for cigarettes and Veronica didn't really understand the joke but mostly she was distracted by how painful it was to know that everyone else was making the same mistake she already had. She doesn't know if he's ever really forgiven her for that. He hasn't had the time.

So when her dad heads to Boston for almost a week sometime near the end of June, when the sun stays high in the sky for most of the day and her skin sticks to her clothes with a sheen of sweat that gathers in her lower back, Veronica turns up on Logan's door step (obscenely early in the morning) with her car and a bag full of clothes. She has clothes and a tazer and some chips and an escape to offer.

"Road trip," she clarifies simply.

"You wanna what?" Logan's voice is gruff from the early morning air and it takes a little effort to force the words up his throat. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, painfully, and looks back down at Veronica. He doesn't understand her like she doesn't understand his prison jokes but at least this isn't making his heart want to explode. Except, actually, it is a little.

"Road trip," she repeats, full of conviction.

Logan tries to ignore the swelling in his chest, but he's smiling. His lips curl at the sight of her, his girlfriend, all decked out with sensible shoes and a duffle bag, waiting for him to skip town with her. "Are you serious?" He's not sure if he wants her to be or not. There's something very dangerous about Veronica Mars when she's serious.

"Yes. I'm very serious," she says, shattering his internal warning label. "We need to get out of Neptune, there's no reason why you can't anymore." She eyes him pointedly, her gaze slipping to his ankle- and not because it's anything particularly pretty to look at but because she can remember the figurative padlock around it. "We should go."

His face crinkles in amusement. Logan can't help finding Veronica's spontaneity adorable. He loves it. He thinks maybe at some point he'll love her, maybe he already does, he's just not sure who tells him where that line is and when he crosses it, so he ignores it for now. "Where?"

She shrugs, completely oblivious to the churning-turning feelings whirling through Logan's stomach. Veronica has enough trouble calming the flipflopflip of her own internal organs whenever Logan and his warm hands and his warm gaze and his warm smile are around. Her shrug tries to be nonchalant, all cute tilt of the head and lopsided smile. "Where you wanna go?"

Logan gives an exaggerated sigh, loving the way her face reacts when he puts on a show for her. Leaning languidly against his doorframe he smiles down at her. "Would it be cliché if I said: anywhere but here?"

Veronica lets out a staccato burst of laughter, a short sharp gust of a sound that echoes around in her mouth. Patting his arm mockingly, she informs him, "You're just lucky I'm already dating you."

He laughs back into her mouth, pulling her up into a warm kiss. Logan presses his forehead to hers once they break apart, inches becoming centimeters become millimeters again between their mouths. "Mmm, so I've been told."

--

It doesn't take Veronica long to convince Logan that they need to rent a car. He points out the two perfectly good cars they both own and it's not until _she_ points out the two perfectly good registration plates they both own that Logan agrees he doesn't want her dad's contacts tracking either one of them down.

"You don't think my dad isn't wise to the whims of teenage fancy?"

"Excuse me?"

"My dad's not stupid, you think he'd leave me unsupervised with my boyfriend if he didn't have cops and other related entities in every other state keeping a look out for me?"

Logan just stares at her in response, his face partly masked by horror. "You mean... people are _watching_ us," he stage-whispers. "Man, that's never happened to me before."

She smacks her hand off his arm, gaining her a scowl and an over dramatized, 'Ow!' "You're an ass," she decides.

"Come on," Logan argues, "people have been taking my picture since I was like born."

Veronica's smile paints you're-pissing-me-off right across her face as she answers, "Yes, but have they been sending them to my dad?"

"I hope not," Logan deadpans.

"We're getting a rental car," she declares. Her tone holds no room for bullshit and Logan seems to get the hint.

"Fine." Logan starts toward Veronica's car stopping only when he realizes she's not following him.

"We can't fit a surfboard on the top of my car," she points out.

"And you have a surfboard with you?" he squints at her.

"No, but I figured you might wanna take yours. You haven't been out much."

"I've been busy." And the implication is there.

Veronica feels like kind of an ass herself at the despondent tone that breaks from Logan's mouth. She wanted to make things better and all she's done is snap at him and boss him around like a toddler. "You don't have to," she starts.

"No, it's great." He nods, wandering away from her to retrieve the board from his garage. It's bigger than her apartment but then Veronica can just make out the tennis courts beyond the back yard so it's not surprising really.

"Cool," she mutters to herself.

--

Veronica decides that if she can't have a convertible, then the next best thing is riding with all the windows down. Surprisingly Logan hasn't complained about the grit that must be kicking up off the road and into his eyes as he drives. Or the way that the wind is ruffling his hair into whole new kinds of bed head. He seems calm, content just to go with the flow and Veronica vaguely remembers this Logan from long, long, long before she first kissed him. Maybe from when Lilly first kissed him and he was just happy to be around.

Her skin feel slick with sweat and the AC in their rented car is doing nothing to help. Her hair is scraped back into a rough ponytail and she shakes it out, running her fingers through the loosened strands and the wind blows them haphazardly around her face. She reaches for a water bottle, her hand grazing Logan's lightly where it sits on the gear shaft and he looks up, catching her gaze.

"Hey." He smiles softly.

"So we got that surfboard on the roof." Veronica looks impressed with herself.

Logan shakes his head lightly. "Yeah. Shame we don't have one for you." He trains his eyes back on the road just as Veronica flips open the lid of her water.

She brings it to her mouth, pausing to reply, "I don't surf."

Logan sneaks a glance over to her, his eyes squinting in the bright light as he rummages around for something in the glove compartment, leaning over her dangerously. "I could teach you."

Veronica lies back in her seat. "Eyes, road. Live by it, Logan. And you could teach me on your board."

"I could," he agrees, finally fishing out a pair of sunglasses. He looks over at her before slipping them on, asking sincerely, "You gonna let me?"

"Well, we'll see if we happen across any oceans," she muses looking out at the water's edge stretching and pulling at the shore that runs down along from the highway.

Logan just directs a quiet little smile to the road ahead as her hand slips over his on the gears.

--

The small diner is backed into a dusty off-ramp, everything coated in a stale, dull film that seems to cling thickly. Veronica brushes down her arms self-consciously as she slides into the plastic booth pocked with cigarette burns. Logan moves across from her, his knees pressing into hers as he peels a laminated menu from the counter top, ignoring the syrupy substance holding it in place.

"No one can call me a gold-digger," she laughs as he flicks his wrists in distaste at the gunk that has rubbed off the menu and onto his fingers.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to 'get away'," he points out, peering at her from over the piece of plastic.

"You gonna share," she asks impatiently, "or do I have to guess what I'm eating."

"Cheese burger, no lettuce, two scoops of ice cream and a Skist," he mutters into the middle fold of the menu, not bothering to look up at Veronica.

Veronica draws her lips together into a tight line of indignation. Defending, "You do not know that."

Logan lets the menu fall back to the table, raising one eyebrow at her pointedly. "Remind me what the last three meals you've eaten are?"

"Shut up," she tries not to smile at him. "I like cheeseburgers."

"Well it's not like you get any fine Italian cuisine out here," he allows.

"Exactly. If you find some lasagna then you tell me."

"Oh, on pain of death." He smirks across at her, laying his hands flat on the table.

The very ends of their fingertips brush together and Veronica inches her hands closer until she can stroke over the first joints of his fingers. "Y'know I liked you better when you didn't know anything about me."

"You hated me then." He flips his hands under hers until they're palm to palm.

"Yeah," she sighs dreamily, rubbing her thumb along the outside edge of his. "Good times."

--

Logan swings the beer bottle between two listless fingers, leaning back on the hood. It's still warm from the drive and the heat radiating from it is a welcome contrast to the chill, dark air. Veronica pulls her legs up underneath her as she turns to watch him. He remains quiet, his chest moving in a steady rhythm that draws her eyes away from his hands.

"Are you gonna drink that or just play with it?" she smiles finally.

He holds out the bottle in offer, pointing the neck at her but Veronica just shakes her head in response. "It's warm," he complains idly. The liquid continues to swirl around in the bottom of the brown glass and he watches it carefully, following the artificial crests and waves.

"How can it be warm? It's like thirty degrees out here," she asks incredulously.

He looks up absently, for the first time taking in the goose bumps littered across her pale skin. "You cold?"

She nods. "A little, maybe. No coat wasn't the best idea."

"C'mere." He curls a hand around her elbow, tugging until she slides along the cooling metal to settle against his body. Veronica fits her head against his shoulder, staring back to his hands, to the way the muscles move as he plays with the glass bottle.

The sky is a flat, carbon piece of paper pressing down on them, hole-punched with stars that seem to provide a dusky light that they can't pin point to any one source. The air is just thin enough to see through and Veronica can feel the hot imprint of Logan's body pressing against her own all down the lines where they are touching.

They're sitting out in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, watching the stars and it doesn't feel like a cliché because clichés never feel like clichés when they're taking place in real life. She presses a kiss to his collar bone and snuggles closer, like she's trying to crawl inside him. A lot of the time Veronica thinks she would quite like to crawl inside him, into a place that has nothing but adoration for her most of the time.

"We should go get a room," she tells him.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "You'll have to drive."

"Really? You mean you're not capable after the five beers?" She smirks into his chest.

"You'd want five beers if you were me," he mumbles into her hair.

"Oh, I don't know," she teases. "I think I'd be too busy taking advantage of the hot blonde in my lap."

Logan pulls away a little so that she can see the devious smile spread across his face. "_You're_ blonde."

"Hey, so I am."

"And hot."

"Oh you," she bats her hand against him.

"Well," he sighs deeply, "I can only take this as a sign. Now I will be forced to take advantage of you."

"Damn." She snaps her fingers just as his mouth closes over hers. One hand threads tightly through her hair and the other squeezes her waist. Veronica doesn't ever, ever want to breathe again. Although his lips are dry, Logan's mouth is slick and hot, his tongue stroking intoxicatingly past her own lips. She grips his shoulder for balance, still cradled in the crook of one arm.

Logan lets out a shuddering sigh when they break apart, running a hand roughly through his hair. "Yeah, we should get that room."

Veronica just laughs. She strokes her thumb across his cheek bone, pressing one last kiss to his mouth before she jumps up off the car. Holding her hand out, palm up, for the keys she watches him try and get down without falling on his unsteady legs. "Ready for your night at the Ritz?"

"Oh God," Logan moans. "It's gonna have cockroaches."

She pushes him into the passenger seat, demanding the use of a seatbelt before replying, "Only if you're lucky."

--

Curling into the rickety mattress, Veronica tries to get comfortable. She stretches out her limbs, hands pulling at the off-white sheets attempting to rid the cramp that has gathered from hours inside a car. It's useless and the crick in her neck cracks painfully as Veronica tosses and turns, her hair rubbing static against the pillow.

"What are you _doing_ in there? My imagination is killing me," Logan mumbles sleepily from the couch across the room.

Veronica sits up, pulling the covers around her lap. "Can't sleep," she answers. Peering into the darkness she can almost make out his frame shifting slightly on the dark lump that she recognizes as vaguely couch-shaped.

"What's wrong, Veronica?"

She huffs out a breath, frustrated. "I don't know."

Soft padding sounds through the room and before Veronica's eyes can adjust Logan is crouching down by the head of the bed. His t-shirt is wrinkled and his hair sticks up in odd directions that make her smile despite herself.

"Get in," she requests.

"Huh?"

Veronica lifts the sheets in response, scooting over from the edge of the bed to allow him room to slide in beside her. Logan sighs, his eyes drifting closed momentarily before he settles onto the cheap mattress and pulls Veronica to him.

A happy, breathy sound escapes her as she presses her face into his chest. "Hmm, better."

The dry sheets rasp against her skin as Veronica hooks a leg over one of Logan's, edging closer to him. His hands slip along her stomach, fingers brushing up under her tank top to caress the warm skin beneath. She hums in pleasure, pushing against him.

Logan lets out a stuttering groan, reveling in the feeling of her soft, bare skin pressed against him. Trying not to revel _too_ much. He sifts a strained sigh through his lungs, trying to lift his head and catch Veronica's eye line in the darkness. "Veronica?"

"Hmm?" she resolutely ignores him, burying her face further into his cloth-covered chest. Her breath hits damp against the stretchy cotton of his t-shirt and Logan shudders.

"Veronica," he repeats. It's louder this time and Logan can hear the extra hint of desperation coloring his own voice. He knows Veronica must be aware of exactly what she's doing to him, she's not the picture of naivety anymore, but she's not letting on. He glares a little into the dusky air between them -- just because she can't sleep doesn't mean she should put him into an even more uncomfortable predicament with no relief in sight.

"What?" she yawns into his chest. She shifts against him, one smooth pale thigh sliding firmly between his legs and against his crotch. A strangled moan rips itself out from his chest and Logan yanks away a little -- a losing battle when Veronica only scooches closer in response, uttering a low whine.

"Stop it," he demands pleadingly. He's only human and she was raped that one time (no matter how cool she tries to play it off) and they've only been together for just over a month. So they haven't had sex, but Logan doesn't know how long he can suffer the drought for her if Veronica's not going to co-operate with him.

She grins into his t-shirt, her lips curving against him through the cotton. It's torturous but all Logan can do is bury his face into her neck and breathe in the clean, shampoo smell of her that seems to cling even after so many hours in transit. "Stop what?" she asks innocently.

"Play nice," he reprimands into her skin, "I'm trying very hard to be a gentleman."

"Aah, hard _would_ be the word wouldn't it?" She smirks.

Logan rolls his eyes, shifting slightly against her to try and relieve some of the discomfort she's causing. It's an unconscious action, he doesn't really think about it, but the rubbing and soft breathing on her skin getting deeper seems to catch Veronica's attention. "You think you're so cute."

"You seem to think I'm pretty cute too." She smiles again and pulls away a little, one hand running down his chest to play with the bottom hem of his shirt.

"Oh I do," he agrees easily, "you'd be cuter without that shirt though."

"Don't speak smack about my shirt," she warns as one small, hot hand slips down inside the waistband of his loose pajama pants.

Logan can't help the short burst of laughter that slips from his lips, quickly turning into a harsh gasp as she closes her fingers around him. "Seriously?" His head falls back against the pillow as she uses her free hand to push his shoulder back into the bed, leaving him open to her. Veronica drapes herself across one side of him, squeezing slightly before she starts a slow, heavy rhythm up and down his length.

"You didn't think I was a tease, did you?" she breathes into his shoulder. Logan doesn't respond, distracted by how many different kinds of good he's feeling with her small, sweaty hand wrapped tightly around his cock. He kisses her -- all tongue and finesse lacking but she doesn't seem to care. She just keeps moving her hand and moving her mouth and muttering little bits and pieces of sentences that don't seem to mean much.

--

He finds her sunbathing on the hood of their car, lazily stretched out along the warming metal in the mid-morning glare. Wires from her iPod trail across her chest and up to her ears where a deep bass thrums mutedly into the air around her. Veronica's fingers tap out an irregular rhythm on her stomach and Logan gazes as the sun gleams off the shiny pink polish that is chipped around the edges of her nails.

They've perfected a small slice of calm in their days away from Neptune. A habit of eating in greasy diners or picnics in their car. Of driving around to nowhere and sleeping in the same lumpy bed that's somehow ten thousand times more comfortable than either of their own at home. Logan doesn't hesitate before he touches her and Veronica doesn't flinch from the unexpected contact anymore. There's nobody else to factor in, it makes everything between them so much easier. So much smoother.

Veronica feel like she can breathe again. Really breathe. It's something she hasn't felt since she saw Aaron Echolls having sex with her best friend on tape. Something that only got worse when her boyfriend was arrested. It still hasn't quite sunk in that he's free yet, despite this symbolic escape of such.

"Hey," he breathes into the thick air.

She stretches, her stomach pulling taut as her back arches. Veronica turns to face him, removing one of the small earphones. "Hi."

"Y'know, we have to go home soon," he intones

She smiles, scrunching her eyes up in a cutely suspicious way. Veronica hates the somber serious side of him that tends toward overly nostalgic. It's only a week on the road, they're not breaking up. "In two days."

"Wish we could just stay here." He sighs, trailing his fingers over the shiny metal by her leg.

Veronica nods softly. "That'd be nice."

"It's so much better, out here, just the two of us." He moves to sit next to her on the hood, Veronica shifting so that her head is now in his lap. Logan's fingers automatically find themselves wrapping through her hair, stroking out the imaginary tension he's sure he can feel there.

She feels closer to him now, and she didn't expect that. She thought it was just something guys would say to get into her pants, to get her into their pants. But something about watching Logan's face as he let everything in the entire world go for her clicked something into place between their skin. Veronica traces her fingers along his thighs, playing patterns into the skin through the denim of his jeans. It's comfortable and familiar, genuine.

--

They do go surfing, and she never gets the hang of it. Watching Logan is soothing though, the excitement that runs through him when he comes down off a wave. The way he shouts in exhilaration, shaking his hair out from the sea water. Droplets of water cling to his chest and the t-shirt she has over her bikini gets soaked as he scoops her up in his arms, spinning her slightly on the sand. When her feet plant back on the slippery surface he steals a quick kiss, rubbing sand from his fingers across one of her cheek bones. She grimaces, but he's back headed toward the sea before she can do anything.

He doesn't tire for hours and she watches the sky fading into different colors of blue and then pink as she lies back in the sand, feeling it engrain into her skin. It rubs and chaffs and the sun might be burning her skin but she couldn't be happier. Logan flops down beside her on the sand, one hand moving to rest on her thigh.

"Whoo, I might drown if I swallow anymore water," he declares, running this free hand through salt-water drenched hair.

Veronica smirks though closed eyes, reveling in the warmth on her face from the setting sun, the warm on her leg from his hand. "And I thought you were supposed to be good at this."

He nudges her in the ribs with his elbow, letting his hand fall on her stomach, fingers swirling circles warmly. "I'm better than you."

"I don't have the practice," she mutters lazily. Her eyes are closed against the thick glare of the sun, casting orange against the sand. Veronica feels sleepy and dehydrated and too comfortable with his hand running over her to actually move.

"C'mon," he mumbles beside her ear, "you're gonna burn."

"Mmm, too late." She feels his hand leave her and moments later Logan is gone from her side. Veronica doesn't pay much attention, letting herself sink into the thoroughly warmed sand. It's only five minutes later when she feels arms slip under her knees and shoulders that she sees fit to open her eyes. "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

She turns her face into his shoulder, letting her eyes fall closed once more. "Why are you carrying me? And where's my purse?"

He talks into her hair, "Because you're so damn stubborn. And in the car."

"Oh, okay," she yawns, pressing her face to him as he heads up the length of the beach.

--

When she finds out that Logan has pot, Veronica freaks a little. He's kept it well hidden from her the past few days. It's not like she didn't know he smoked down occasionally and it's not like she had never taken a long deep draw from his joint (that made her choke) when they were younger, but this was different. He has just been acquitted of murder and the last thing Veronica needs is her boyfriend being hauled in for something as trivial as possession.

In the end though it softens up his shoulders like nothing else has so far, except maybe sex and even then he's all about effort expended, and they're miles and miles from Neptune and the people who would like to catch him.

The joint makes him look dreamy and far away, Veronica reaches out to ruffle fingers through his hair and he pulls the paper away from his mouth to exhale away from her. He turns back to look into her eyes and he's bloodshot and dilated and she really kind of wants him. He laughs at her when she extracts the joint from between his lazy fingers and grinds it out on the hood of the car. She thinks they spend way too much time on top of this car, inside, in the backseat -- it's becoming like a second home that she's building with him.

Grasping onto the edges of his over shirt she pulls him down to meet her, mouths colliding with impeccable aim. Their kiss is still off-centre and Logan nearly falls forward as his jeans start to slide on the slippery metal beneath him. He jumps down on unsteady, unused legs and lets his arms snake around her waist as Veronica's mouth becomes demanding.

"We should go inside," she mumbles into his mouth. She wants more than fifteen minutes in the backseat of their car. Logan's mouth tastes sweet and dry and dirty with smoke as her tongue traces inside -- running the soft flesh and hollows that make him moan against her lips.

His hands slide to her hips, grasping her closer, grinding against her through too many layers of denim. "Inside," he echoes mindlessly, his hands all over her.

They stumble through the doorway of the small motel, ignoring the reception, the people by the vending machine. Veronica clammers for the elevator button with Logan's mouth still hovering over hers. He catches her lips when she finds it, a series of short, hard kisses introducing the opening doors to their floor.

Their room is dark when they fall through the doorway, curtains still drawn and all the lights off. Logan hoists Veronica up until her thighs wrap tightly around his hips. They move like that, unsteady, off-balance, until he gets close enough to the bed to drop her unceremoniously and follow her down.

"Hey!" Veronica cries as her back hits the bedspread.

Logan does a quick roll towards her, settling himself between her open legs. "You were heavy," he mumbles into her jaw line.

"_Hey_," she repeats more dangerously.

Logan ignores her, moving down. His lips drag against her collarbone. She's bra-less under her tank top and he doesn't bother removing it yet, setting his sights on her pants. He picks at the buttons on her jeans, smirking up at her as 'lucky you' reveals itself along her fly. He cocks an eyebrow at Veronica as she squirms to push the waistband off her hips. "They come that way," she defends breathily.

As she finally gets the jeans past her thighs and uncovers small green panties, Logan admits, "And I was just going to agree with them."

"You better," she demands against his mouth as she pulls him back to her.

His fingers sneak down into the soft, green elastic, pulling it back and letting it ping low down on her hips.

"Hey," she tries against his lips but Logan in relentless in his kiss, swallowing up the word as his fingers sooth over the sting. Once again his thumbs hook in and this time they drag the cotton down past her thighs, over her knees. Veronica kicks lamely when the panties reach her ankles and finally she's lying before him with only one thin, white tank top to cover her. "You know you're ruining the bases," she chides a little breathlessly as his hands move slowly, firmly up her legs.

"Boring," he breathes between her thighs, eliciting a sharp shudder down Veronica's spine as his hot breath hits her swollen flesh, ramping up anticipation.

"It's a classic--" her voice breaks as his tongue trails a tight line _right_ where it makes her shiver.

--

Veronica lies in the afterglow, her clothes still on the floor. Logan is somewhere doing something that she's sure he told her and she can feel his loss acutely. One side of her feels unreasonably cold. She's sticky and uncomfortable and it's just not worth it if she can't hide in his chest.

Just as she's rolling out of bed to shower the door creaks open and the boy in question appears. "Going somewhere?" he asks, handing her a paper cup full of frothy coffee.

"I need to shower." She pouts and he moves a little closer, discarding his own coffee in favor of wrapping his arms around her waist. His fingers trip up her vertebrae and although he's dressed now, Veronica's still naked and the feel of his hands on her skin sends dissolving shocks up her spine and through her thighs. "I _need_ to shower," she repeats. "There's nothing you could want to do to me in this state."

"Oh, I don't know," Logan muses. "I could make the sacrifice." He dips down to kiss her and Veronica darts her mouth back.

"At least let me brush my teeth."

"Deal," he accepts, pulling off his shirt as she scampers to the bathroom. When Veronica gets back he's lounging on the bed in his boxers, she crawls next to him and he kisses her again. "Thought I'd leave these for you."

"How thoughtful, gotta keep a little of the mystery I guess."

"Nothing much mysterious down there."

She ignores him, shimmying the boxers down his hips and off before she straddles him, sinking slowly down.

"Uh, whoa," he almost chokes, "that foreplay thing?"

"Mmm," she reminisces, "yeah I remember that thing. Was nice. This is better." She presses down fully, trying to get comfortable -- but she can't, and everything is on an edge, itching her to reach for something, to get going.

"You might actually be the best girlfriend ever," he pants as she begins a slow grind up and down above him.

"Hey, don't get used to it," she breathes heavily into him. "We love the foreplay."

"We do," he cranes his neck up to kiss her, long and slow and deep. A edge of desperation creeps in as his hands move to her hips and Veronica moves a little faster. The slick friction burns between them and everything is hot and blurred and frantic.

"Oh God, Veronica," he groans. Logan's voice cracks over every syllable of her name. Every stress pulled out like it's _vital_ to his existence. She gasps in response, short and sharp. His eyes are closing and she watches him, willing her own eyes not to flutter shut. He's beautiful, she thinks, disheveled and open and completely adoring her. She can't get enough of the little things, the way his mouth twitches, the way his eyelashes wave against his skin, the tiny bead of sweat that trails his forehead. He's falling apart and letting her see. She's nosy; she can't get enough of it.

The only thing she can think to do is let him see the same thing. "Logan," she whispers urgently. "Logan, open your eyes."

He struggles against the wash of _something_ building up inside him, pressing up into her, his face moving as her small hand brushes across it. His eyes flutter open with effort. He looks dazed, bloodshot. "I love you," he murmurs into her hand.

"Yeah," she replies softly without thinking. "Love you, too." And he comes. She feels something tightening inside of her and when Logan stops shivering he flips them over, a short surprised sound escaping her throat, and then two fingers slip inside her. Veronica feels the stretch and pull intensify as Logan works them quickly, crooking his fingers inside her to agitate, to hit just the right spots to make her squirm. Finally, finally, he presses down hard enough on her clit to break her and Veronica chokes out his name as her body bucks.

"I'm in love with you," Logan mumbles into her neck as he shifts her to lie across him. Veronica doesn't answer, she just kisses his shoulder before she lets her eyes drift shut. It's more a confession for himself anyway.

--

Veronica thinks that maybe their last proper day of freedom should have been spent doing something other than having sex holed up in a dusty motel room. Try as she might she can't think of another alternative though, nothing as worthwhile. If she did all the things she should then she should have waited to have sex with Logan at all, she should have used a condom -- birth control or no, she should have stopped herself before she said she loved him. Because she does, she really thinks she does, but she shouldn't be able to tell him this quickly.

It shouldn't be about sex. "It's not just about sex," he blurts out suddenly, shocking Veronica to draw her eyebrows tightly together. Could he read her thoughts already?

"You and me," he clarifies, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers anxiously. "It's not just about sex. That's not why I came on this trip."

She resists saying anything flippant and just nods quietly. "I know."

"Okay." He looks up at her suddenly. "I'm in love with you, Veronica, I'm completely fucking in love with you." And then he looks back to the road and she hides her face in one hand, smiling into her palm, embarrassed.

They're headed home and maybe he needs to say it before they get back to Neptune, before there are circumstances and people trying to worm their way in between them. Maybe she'll believe him here, out where everything is on their own terms. And she does believe him, tentatively. Veronica works her hand away from her face and trails it through her hair, he's watching her. Smiling back like he knows a secret that she can't take away.

The miles begin to stretch out a little less, long straight roads winding down, and soon the 'Welcome to Neptune' sign is just a blur behind them. Veronica prepares herself for the smothering feel of their return to Neptune, but she doesn't feel anything shift in the air. She doesn't feel impending doom press down on them or hear horse's feet and metal shackles. Logan drives right through town and even leaving the car that had been their temporary home doesn't crush the feeling of calm. It's just the same quiet freedom.

And she thinks they might be okay.


End file.
